


Midnight Withdrawal

by Amaranth (BurbleJerry)



Series: Intimacy and Support [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dry Orgasm, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Prostate Massage, Prostate Orgasm, Prostate Play, Prostate-Induced Orgasm, Sex Addiction, Taguel!Inigo, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11475381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurbleJerry/pseuds/Amaranth
Summary: Owain reunites with the others from the future, but something is amiss. Inigo ends up helping him with an unexpected problem.





	Midnight Withdrawal

**Author's Note:**

> In the interests of making this more accurate, and reflective of where I want to go with this series, I added an introduction and did some minor edits to the sex part, and revised the description to fit better. First posted 7/11/2017, and now reposted & updated 4/22/2018. Be sure to check out the rest of the series [so far] if you're interested, and thank you for reading!

The day Owain was found, his parents cried and the Shepherds celebrated. Others from their dystopian future were relieved, and hope was renewed. Owain cried, for his parents and friends were alive. He joined up with their group immediately, and talked long into the evening with all whom he’d missed. That night, however, he went to bed early. Nobody thought much of it at the time.

That night, Inigo intended to get some dancing practice in. He snuck to the outskirts of camp, and his keen hearing picked up odd, uneven breathing. The source was a familiar yellow shape, hunched over by a tree. Hesitantly, the dancer approached, and asked, “Owain, is that you?”

Owain visibly startled. Then, he curled up even more, arms tightened around his pulled-up legs. “Go away,” he breathed, voice oddly shaky. “I’m fine.” Inigo nearly obeyed, but a deep worry for his missing friend convinced him to stay, and he sat beside the miserable myrmidon.

“Should I get a healer?” Inigo whispered. Owain shook his head, and Inigo frowned. “I can’t just leave you alone, out in the woods, in the dark, looking like a sad lump.”

Owain glared over his knees, then winced from something and re-buried his face. “I-I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep or whatever.”

“You can’t make me leave,” Inigo pointed out. He’d just found Owain alive, after all, and though they argued all the time, they would die for one another. In short, Inigo couldn’t leave the guy alone like this.

Owain simply nodded, and said nothing further. Crickets chirped all around, and Inigo’s long ears picked up the footsteps of whomever was on patrol passing by; they went unnoticed.

Eventually, Owain straightened with an uncomfortable groan. He peered at Inigo, and managed an unconvincing smile. “You see, my arch-rival? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Are you sick? Hurt?” Inigo leaned in, squinting at Owain in the gloom. “You’re lucky I happened to be out here before bed, you know.”

“Liar,” Owain mumbled. He looked away from Inigo’s bright gaze, staring into the deeper dark of the nearby forest. “I’m not sick, and I’m not hurt, I just… I’m going to fix it soon. So don’t worry about me.”

“I could just tell your mother,” Inigo suggested, “She is a healer. She could probably help you.” Owain went so pale that Inigo could faintly make out the loss of color.

“No!” Owain yelped; they both froze. When nobody responded to the sudden noise, Owain decreased his volume and whispered, “No. She can’t know. Nobody can know, they’ll…” he stood up and leaned against the tree. “Please don’t tell. Please.”

“Ok, ok, fine!” Inigo stood with him, confusion and surprised mixed in his tone. “I won’t tell a soul, Owain, so just relax. I hate to say it, but you’re really worrying me here.”

Owain’s arms curled around himself, a gesture that only worried Inigo more. “Sorry. It’s just… … I’ll handle it. So don’t worry about me.”

Inigo frowned at the words, but reluctantly nodded. “Ok, ok, I’ll leave you to it. But… if you need any help, at least let me or someone else know?”

For some reason, Owain’s face took on a distinct red hue. “Uh, s-sure. Now, goodnight,” and he quickly hobbled off, back into the dimly-lit camp. Inigo watched him go, then walked into the forest to find a good practice spot. But even as he danced, he found himself distracted and troubled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days after their nighttime conversation, Inigo peeked into Owain’s tent. “Owain, are you-- oh.” One of his floppy ears fell from his shoulder to hang free, a violation of his preferred style, but he ignored it. The sight of Owain curled up on his cot was distracting and troubling.

“Go away,” the myrmidon mumbled. He sounded even more miserable than last time.

Inigo crept up to the cot and sat on the edge, staring down at his rival-slash-friend with concern. “Chrom asked me to find you.” Owain winced, but didn’t respond. Inigo sighed. “I have to tell him something, you know. You missed the last war council--”

“I know,” Owain interrupted. He curled up a bit more; his breathing was oddly shaky. “Just tell them I’m sleeping.”

“I’d rather tell them you need a healer,” Inigo countered. He eyed Owain over, but he couldn’t smell or see blood, or any other obvious signs of injury. But it was hard to tell, with the platinum-blonde myrmidon curled up so tightly.

Owain sighed. At first, Inigo wondered if he’d speak further; than the blonde mumbled, “Please don’t. I… I don’t want them to know, they’re… they’ll think…” he trailed off with a sad sniffle.

Inigo frowned. “Ok, ok, I’ll tell them you’re asleep. But I can’t cover for you forever, so whatever your problem is, you better fix it soon.” He turned away and made as if to stand, but paused when he saw Owain’s hand reaching towards him.

“Wait.” Owain lifted his head, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a pinkened, freckled face. They matched stares, until the awkward tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, before Owain finally said in a strained voice, “Inigo, could… could you help me?”

“Well, I’m already lying for you,” Inigo pointed out dryly. Despite the sarcasm, he could tell something was wrong, and his heart hammered with anxiety. “Why not talk to Brady or some other healer, who could actually help you?”

“It’s not--” Owain halted and swallowed. “I… I can’t. I can’t ask any of our parents, and I can’t ask Brady.”

Inigo narrowed his eyes. “Well, if they really can’t help… what do you need?”

Owain re-tucked his head in his arms and sniffled again. He was quiet, then mumbled, barely audible, “Could… could you get my journal?” 

Inigo shrugged and stood, sparing the room a glance before he located the ‘Manual of Justice’ upon a foldable table. He retrieved it and sat back upon the cot, handing the book to Owain. The myrmidon uncurled just enough to grab it and turn the pages, and after a few minutes, he handed it back to Inigo. The dancer decided against commenting on the wetness upon the blonde’s cheeks as he took the book, looking at the page it’d been opened to. Owain re-curled up.

“Alright, let’s see what this mystery problem is,” Inigo murmured as he scanned the page. His face turned red before he was even halfway through; when he finished, he stared at Owain’s curled form in shock. “Owain… uh… I can’t help with this. I’m… I’m not into guys, I’ve never, uh… done… anything remotely like this!”

“I… I know,” Owain mumbled, with an audible extra layer of misery. “But… but if I can’t find anyone else, could… could you…?”

“Uh.” Inigo looked back to the pages. They had detailed, numbered instructions, written in an unfamiliar hand, about a very sexual act. His eyes unfocused upon the page. “Uh, well… I can’t just leave a friend to suffer, can I?” He swallowed nervously. “I can try, if there’s no one else, but, uh… n-no guarantees.”

Owain slowly lifted his head, surprise in his wide, watery eyes. “... R-really?”

“Yeah.” Inigo grinned with a complete lack of confidence. “No, uh, no problem. That’s what friends do, sometimes, right?” Not that he’d ever let himself consider Owain, or any other guy, as anything other than a friend. “I, uh. I don’t mind.”

Owain sniffled, and mumbled, “Th… thank you. But…”

Inigo raised a brow. “But…?”

“You’ll want to memorize that,” Owain said, nodding his head towards the journal. Despite his deepening blush, he gingerly sat up, and even managed a nervous grin. “After all, the Manual of Justice cannot remain in uncertain hands.”

“Right,” Inigo sighed. “But tell me if you find anyone else willing to help, alright?” Owain nodded. “Good. Now, uh, what… what does this word mean?”

Owain leaned over to peer at the page, face going deeper red. They spent the next few minutes talking before Inigo left, letting Owain take an actual nap. A week went by without further incident.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please, please, I need it,” Owain whispered, raw desire straightening his spine as if electrified. He saw how Inigo stared at him: shocked, embarrassed, worried. But his nerves were screaming for relief louder than his shame was whispering for silence.

“Please, just, just once, please,” Owain pleaded, clutching at Inigo’s pant legs with shaking fingers. He trembled, and knew Inigo felt it through the fabric.

“Please, Inigo,” Owain begged, panting hard as his gaze slid to the ground. He felt shame burning through him even as a powerful need to be filled tortured him, teased him as if a lover were physically tormenting him at that very moment.

His eyes began to sting just as Inigo grabbed his wrists, helped him stand, and helped him downstairs. He was led through the common room slowly, and hoped desperately that it was empty; he heard a door open, and felt the ground change beneath his feet.

They ducked between two buildings, to a claustrophobic excuse for an alley. Owain’s back hit a wall and his legs buckled at the same instant, taking him down to the ground. Looking up, his gaze met Inigo’s. The dancer worried at his lower lip pensively before he slowly kneeled. In so cramped a space, Inigo was forced to sit with his thighs to either side of the swordsman’s, mumbling apologies as he fumbled his gloves off. Owain’s eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing, only to gasp when he felt slender, bare fingers fumble with his breeches.

“I’ve, ah, never done this before. With anyone, or, ever, so… so tell me if I do anything wrong, ok?” Inigo tried to smile, but his nervousness betrayed him. Owain was about to say something, but a shaky whimper left him when the dancer’s fingers brushed his inner thigh, unbearably close to his hard--

“S-sorry! Sorry, are you ok? Did that hurt--”

“N-no,” Owain panted, finding a second wind in the imminent fulfillment of his need. He awkwardly wriggled out of his pants, not caring how his thighs rubbed Inigo’s or when their heads bumped together. His smallclothes were shucked with his pants, freeing his dripping member, though he dared not touch it yet. At his squirming, Inigo got the hint and managed to shift their legs around, with Owain’s thighs outside Inigo’s and spread wide. They matched stares for a long moment: Owain, dazed and panting; Inigo, redder than a tomato from his face down to his floppy ears.

“R-right,” Inigo managed. He fumbled with the contents of his belt pouch before producing a small glass bottle. The normally-graceful dancer almost spilled the entire bottle on them both before getting just half of the liquid on his fingers. With a deep breath, he reached down and in-between them.

Inigo recalled when Owain finally opened up about his problem. The tears, the pained curling up, the embarrassed flush upon a freckled face. He remembered how weird and personal it sounded. But when he saw his friend like this, he couldn’t just let the swordsman suffer. Inigo squared his jaw in renewed determination and began to press a finger inside.

“A-ah!” It was the sudden, firm promise of an ache fulfilled that had Owain tensing. When had his fingers gripped Inigo’s shoulders so tightly? It wasn’t nearly enough, and Owain tugged his friend closer, buried his face in Inigo’s furry neck. His hands relaxed enough to slide to Inigo’s back, gripping the fabric desperately. The dancer tensed at the sudden closeness, but after a moment slid his free arm around the swordsman’s shoulders to hold him tight.

“It’s ok,” Inigo reassured; he wasn’t sure if Owain’s shaky reactions were a good sign. “You’re going to be ok, just… just tell me if anything hurts, ok?” Pausing just long enough for the swordsman to nod, Inigo swallowed and began pressing a second finger inside.

Owain’s legs partially wrapped around Inigo’s waist, with his feet barely touching the ground. He groaned softly, rocking onto Inigo’s fingers, unable to help himself. His shirt felt damp with his own pre, and he knew Inigo’s was likewise slick. A pang of guilt at his own dripping fled when the familiar jolt of electric pleasure ran up his spine and he groaned, loud, legs tightening around the dancer’s waist.

“Shhh, someone might hear,” Inigo hissed, though he had little hope of keeping Owain completely quiet. Especially when said blonde lifted his head just enough to whimper against his ear, breath hot and uneven, “Please.”

“Ok, ok, just, try not to make too much noise.” Inigo abruptly realized he had some idea of how to touch a prostate now. His fingers stalled at the odd thought, and Owain clenched tight around them with another needy whine.

“Ok, ok,” Inigo swallowed, circled his digits around the little bump, and tensed when Owain flinched. The moans stifled into his neck sounded so loud, even over Inigo’s hammering heart. Owain was rocking hard on his fingers, clenching around them at the same time that he clutched at Inigo’s shirt. With a shaky exhale, Inigo scissored his fingers, stretching his friend further and trying to touch that spot with every movement. Just as he considered moving on, he realized his poor digits were growing sore.

“Hold on, I need to switch,” Inigo murmured in apology, pulling his tired fingers free. He shushed the blonde when Owain would protest; he pulled his other arm free and shook the numbness out of it. This time, he got less than half of the remaining bottle of lube on his other fingers, quickly working a pair back inside the swordsman. A shaky groan of relief escaped Owain. The blonde’s back was against wooden wall, with no arm support now, but Inigo was pretty sure the man would be fine.

Owain shivered, sweaty and panting, as a third finger began pressing inside. He whimpered at the stretch, craving it so badly, and when his prostate was subjected to the strengthened assault-

“Ow! Fuck, Owain,” Inigo yelped, and it took Owain a moment to realize he’d bitten the dancer’s shoulder in his efforts to stay quiet.

“Sorry,” he rasped, yet Inigo shook his head.

“No, I-- no, it’s ok,” the dancer mumbled; Owain had only a moment to wonder about the reaction before Inigo’s fingers went right back to work. The trio of digits stretched him wide and slick, and Owain’s whole body twitched with pleasure. The steady stretch mixed with the intense waves of bliss left him breathlessly moaning.

“Owain,” Inigo began, fingers slowing but not stilling; he knew better than to do that again. “Owain, could I… uh. Gods, I brought a toy, but could I first, um… i-instead of the toy, could I…?” He was glad Owain was too distracted to question why the dancer had a dildo on hand, or why he wanted to replace it.

It took Owain a few dazed moments to realize what Inigo was getting at. “... Y-yeah. Go ahead,” rasped the blonde, though he shivered with nervous anticipation. He felt Inigo’s hand slide behind his shoulders and pat him gently, and felt relief in knowing his friend was just as nervous.

Owain closed his eyes, listening to the lewd sound of Inigo slicking his length. He heard Inigo take a deep breath and did the same, clutching at the dancer like a drowning man as he felt the head push in. The rest of Inigo’s cock slid in steadily, and by the time their hips met, both men were panting.

“Th… there. You alright?” Inigo asked, with barely enough breath to be heard. Owain took a few moments to adjust, his body clenching around Inigo erratically for a good minute. The sweet relief of being filled was a need, and he craved more.

“P-please,” Owain whispered, and practically melted when Inigo began to move. Slow, at first, uncertain, testing until he hit that -spot- that Owain craved. The blonde’s loud, unrestrained moans encouraged the dancer, and he worked up to a speedy pace. His calloused hands slid down to Owain’s hips, then his ass, grabbing and using it as leverage as he began to really pound the swordsman.

Owain saw stars, knew he was being loud and yet didn’t care, couldn’t care. His heart beat as loud as Inigo’s, and he clawed hard at the dancer’s back even as the grip on his ass became bruising. The fact that the dancer was able to hold Owain like this would’ve been surprising if he weren’t being rhythmically bounced on that thick cock.

It was over too soon; he felt Inigo spill inside him and slow to an immediate stop. Owain’s back hit the wall one last time as Inigo slumped atop him, breathing hard, and Owain whimpered shakily. The blonde’s dick was still dripping, akin to a leaking waterskin; their shirts would be stained for a good, long while.

“Ah, s-sorry, I…” Inigo trailed off to catch his breath before pulling out, offering an awkward smile that Owain could barely see, “Hold on, I still have the other thing.” He fumbled with his belt pouch again, and Owain squirmed and considered fisting himself when he felt something firm and phallic pressing inside. It entered so easily; Inigo had just dumped the remainder of the oil upon it.

“Aaah,” Owain moaned, his legs trembling with the thickness of it. His tired, relaxed body tensed of its own accord before the toy was even fully sheathed within, and only Inigo's presence kept Owain somewhat anchored. The dancer shifted, using his knee to keep the toy steady, allowing both of his arms to wrap around the swordsman. Owain appreciated it, and was able to rock his shaky hips at the desperate pace he craved, finding that one angle that drove him wild and going at it relentlessly. The build-up of pleasure sharply intensified, waves of it ravaging Owain from head to toe, drowning him in sensations for what seemed like a full minute. He felt Inigo wince, realized in the aftermath that his nails had dug into the dancer’s back.

“Was… was that good…?” Inigo began, stopping when he felt Owain nod, “Oh, uh. Great, keep it up,” and though he didn’t need encouragement, Owain wasted no time in doing so. With Inigo holding him steady against the wall, the blonde swordsman easily pleasured himself. With every stutter of his hips, every clenching of his insides, every nudge against his prostate, Owain saw bright lights. All he could focus on was the sensations, the pleasure and warmth that filled him over and over. Inigo held him through every dry peak, rubbing his sweaty, bruised back, wincing as his own was scratched up. Owain was distantly aware that he ached, and didn’t care; distantly aware that his body was building up to something greater, to a finale that would leave him satisfied.

“C-close,” Owain croaked; the pressure inside him was wonderful and unbearable. Inigo shifted around him awkwardly, holding him from the side instead of face-to-face. The dancer reached down and held the dildo in by hand, letting Owain rock on it like his life depended on it. Only one of his muscled arms could easily fit around Inigo like this, but Owain wanted that; it left a hand free for him to finally grasp his dripping dick. His grip stuttered at the touch of relief; then he was pumping himself hard, out of sync with his hips, pleading and meaningless noise slipping past his lips like a mantra.

His back arched, head hitting the wall when he finally climaxed. A breathless groan escaped him, dizzy and satisfied, and when he slumped forward he felt Inigo catch him. Owain didn’t have to look to know the opposite wall was a mess of white streaks, and the thought of it left him vaguely embarrassed. It took a moment for the blonde to realize Inigo was talking; another moment for Owain to get over the toy being pulled out before he could comprehend.

“Are you alright? Owain, say something,” Inigo begged, holding the swordsman to his chest and glancing back and forth to make sure no one was coming. Owain hadn’t been quiet in the slightest, and it was seemingly a miracle that no one had found them. Now the blonde trembled all over with the last of his orgasmic pleasure, breathing too hard to speak, and he was utterly boneless in the dancer’s grip.

“That was... more intense then I expected,” Inigo admitted. He flipped one of his ears back upon his shoulder and laughed sheepishly. “Next time, warn me about the mess?” he half-joked as he looked around, noting their wet clothes, the alarmingly large splotches of white upon the opposite wall, and the mixed liquid gathering upon the ground.

Owain managed a breathy chuckle, and he felt Inigo shift him a little. They spent a few moments simply sitting there as they both recovered. 

Finally, Inigo rested Owain against the wall, stretched his arms, and gathered the discarded pants. “You’ll just have to change once we’re inside,” he observed, and helped the still-trembling blonde back into the poor, unloved pants. “Maybe take a bath in the morning.”

The dancer stood, stretching his tired limbs once more. “Inigo,” Owain panted, “wait.”

“Hm?” Inigo looked down at his tired friend and reluctantly kneeled again, despite his legs protesting. “I can’t carry you, unless you can walk a little.”

Owain bit his lip and nodded. As Inigo slid his arm under Owain’s shoulder, the blonde murmured, “Thank you.”

“Oh, uh,” Inigo hesitated, surprised when heat crept up his face despite his fatigue. “I did agree to help, right? So as you said, don’t worry about it. Besides,” he grunted as he stood, with Owain trembling and leaning heavily against him. “I… couldn’t leave you like that.”

Owain winced. “… Don’t tell anyone?”

“I won’t,” Inigo promised. “And if you need help again, I, uh… I’ll do my best. Just don’t wait so long that anyone passing by could take advantage of you.” He looked to Owain with a very serious frown, and Owain slowly nodded. “Good. Let’s get going, you look like hell.”

Owain laughed tiredly, and together they staggered back out onto the street, then into the inn.


End file.
